Pedaling; Coast to Coast

Skipping stones across the sea is parallel to waiting for the bus - it gets tiresome. - Tanopper, Fruitmeyer. Somewhere in the Mediterranean, 196-?

Long Way To Go

It's summer in Alaska,
Don't think nothing bad about the cold.

Still, I see monsters

(in photo: Christopher Morley...?)

“It is conventional to call ''monster'' any blending of dissonant elements. I call ''monster'' every original inexhaustible beauty.” (Alfred Jarry)

Out for a ride

(in photo: Alfred Jarry)

"The bicycle, the bicycle surely, should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets." (Christopher Morley)

Ambitious Plateau

The Light's On

It is here, in the fogginess between deep slumber and wakefulness that the ambiguity lies. Becoming increasingly lucid, I redevelop my surroundings and recollect myself, instinctively abandoning what residue is left of my preceding dreamscape. The first naked strokes of light break through and turn on another day. No surprises, nothing to be revealed.

Tour: Day Two

Cashing cheques and breaking necks
Driving along the coast leaves one susceptible to temptations...

My Car

Diplomacy

All political matters should be dealt with through chess.

The Angry Radio

I never fully understood how something like radio worked, but I always thought of it as an outpost of sorts, transmitting sound as directed from a greater source, not associated with any particular voice. With much skepticism, however, I've learned that one, known as the "Angry Radio", is genuinely distinct from all other radios- surely an anomaly of the production-line.

It began on the evening I purchased the thing, a few months back. I thought (as it later proved against my better judgement) it would be nice for my family to sit together and listen to the nighttime music programs. To our astonishment, what came out of the radio when I turned the knob was not music or someone else's voice altogether, but its own! Imagine how we all felt watching this box, disconnected from all other radios as well as the concept of radio, speak to us- a box engineering its own sound and thoughts right here in our living room! Fixated, all we could do was listen, but as it turned out, all it needed was a listener. It broadcasted its sentiments, and if I say so, it seemed awfully emotional for a radio.

Feeling the absurdity of the situation bear down, I removed the radio's plug from the wall (something it did not need anyways), and escorted it out of the room where the two of us had one of the strangest conversations of my life. It told me that every night from now onward our family would hold the responsibility of listening to it vent the contents of its mind, which have so long been troubling it, and in exchange for that attention, it promised to tell the most magnificent of story's. It said, "why have to listen to the same crap everyone else has to listen to when I can accommodate your personal entertainment needs?" This seemed like a fair compromise. It did however threaten that failing to help it may result in a series of misfortunes.

I figured it would be kind to agree and listen to the radio as its vehemence in having a listener was quite moving. We did this for a month straight every night, all of us gathering around it, intently trying to figure out how this was possible. Most nights it was very pleasant; fanciful stories were told of its inception and upbringing (which I refuse to reveal as a promise made to myself, regarding safety) that I'd never imagine would be events a radio could participate in, let alone communicate with such subjectivity. It did express gratitude towards us for having it, as many of his previous owners did not show the same care.

One night, curiousity brimming the cusp of irrationality, the children chose to investigate the radio, dissecting its inner-workings, looking for a mouth or brain or anything somewhat human. When I saw the wires and wooden bits strewn over the floor as if someone had taken a hammer to it, I panicked, fearing the misfortunes it had alluded to (I had speculated the reasons why previous owners had abandoned it). Luckily I was able to put it back to its original state, but it immediately bursted with an alarming cry, quite opposite to its usually tender voice, and ranted on the great discomfort it had just been put through, as if having been reminded of some childhood horror.

After that incident its mood seemed to be in constant flux; we not longer gathered around formally to listen to it, but just heard it murmuring to itself as we passed by in the hall, or occasionally sat down to chat, which I think it appreciated. At nights I was often awoken by its chilling moans for salvation. Feeling the radio had run its course with our family, the children not longer intrigued by the novelty of it (and often frightened by its tone), I tried, with much difficulty, to get it to consider being returned to the store. It would not comply. Arguing with it for over a week, I found myself going to bed each night trying to formulate the best argument for the next day, while (I presume) it stayed up all night. I expressed that this house was no longer an appropriate means of consolation for its hardships (which at times seemed inexhaustible); he pleaded that he would only become more miserable if forced to leave and begin "the process" all over again. It then went into a torpor of silence - an unsettling characteristic to observe of a radio.

The above picture of me holding the seemingly ordinary device, was taken by my wife just before our eventually agreed upon resolution. To my knowledge it remains to this day at the bottom of the ocean, and sailors have often remarked at hearing crackling voices as they pull into the shore.

Vat 73

The use of electromagnetic radiation is a relatively safe form of scientific inquiry, depending upon the purpose as well as the methods of which one uses in their pursuits...
- Reebitz, Alman "C", Dr. (Theoretical Physicist). Berlin, 1900.

Eye for an eye

Don't quote me on this, but King Hammerabi (sp?) was thought to only have had one arm and no right foot. Coincidence? - Bulsourse, Acredi. London. 1910.

The Big Money

Have faith gentlemen, in time this will prove to be an investment of considerable sagacity. - President Andrew Johnson announcing the purchase of Alaska, June 20, 1867.

On the look out

When I'm on the train, looking out from the viewing deck, I like to imagine what I might look like to a stationary onlooker within the long streaks of colour that blur all objects outside. My view is framed by a square window, and while the onlooker's is framed by the train, if we were to think about each of our positions, yet subtract the train, the onlooker would appear lost in my all encompassing torrent of livid wind and dizzying colour rushing by (albeit from frontal view the effect might be one of a slow and placid approach). I however, would seem to be a man sitting in a chair, drifting endlessly through empty space.

Orientation

Strange is the realization upon first waking that the room in which you have slept is completely in tact, exactly as it was left the night before, although such theatrical occurrences could be sworn to have taken place.

- Schoeheim, Webber. Jerusalem, Promise Land. 80 B.C.E.

Meeting People Is Easy

A Man With No Past

I decree in my will: my book, written by Jean-Jeff Reese, regarding my life and work, must be written on papyrus, direct from the Egypt.
- (Emile Quitsw...?)

Waterfront Mannequins

"Fishing is the art of understanding the link between whatever it is that makes things move and the proportional causes that make things stay still." - Gorp, Russell (Aquatic Kinesiologist).

Genius

"Everybody knows the thing about an infinite number of monkeys... An infinite number of monkeys is put to work at an infinite number of typewriters and eventually one of them produces a great work of literature. In what language I don't know. But what about an infinite number of writers in an infinite number of cages? Would they make one monkey sound? One genuine chimp noise? Would they eventually swing by their toes from an infinite number of money bars?" (DeLillo)

League of American Wheelmen

When I determined to found the League of American Wheelmen two years ago, I did so with the ideal in mind that every American should have not only a bicycle, but an education in the new art of bicycling and the benefits that accompany it: fitness, transportation and enjoyment. It has been my privilege to see this association grow out of nothing and it is a testament to man's ingenuity; how man receives but iron and rubber from the Earth and somehow, through his imagination, a wheel and tire come about - a masterful union indeed. It is my dream that the bright young Americans of today should be the greatest educated generation yet! Today, wheelmen, ride with the knowledge that you are now in control. Race forth with the vigor that brought forth the very wheels you now turn, that carry you. That is my challenge to you. Best of luck!

- Kirk Munroe addressing the League of American Wheelmen before the first American bicycle race, May 24, 1878, Boston, Massachusetts.